Marie's Carnival Prize
She clutch'd her prize like it was trying to flee,
Delight upon her young and rosy cheeks.
She never thought the carnival would be
So wonderful. The giants, dwarves, and freaks
Were so inviting when they let her in
To find some warmth inside their canvas tent.
They smiled their crookéd smiles, let her win
Their silly games, and wouldn't take a cent.
"You are our guest, Marie!" the giant said.
"We do not want your money, just your heart."
So happy then she felt, so cherishéd.
At sunrise, though, she knew she must depart —
Took her prize and left to find her fam'ly and the rest,
Trying not to rub the itchy scar upon her chest.
I've been reading about Ray Bradbury's short stories. Does it show?